Grease Stains and Paper Lanterns
by Nekogirl1595
Summary: "I swear, it was just a slip of the tongue! I didn't realize the bastard would have that kind of response!" Lovino Vargas works as a waiter at his friend's restaurant. What happens when he accidentely calls one of his regular customers something he didn't intend to say? Spamano. High school AU/ Restaurant AU better than summary, I pinkie promise M for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

I swear, to the Holy Father up in heaven, it was a mistake.

I never meant anything by it. It was just a fucking slip of the tongue, something I just happened to say on accident. And, now that I'm thinking about it, I bet if it had been anyone else; they would've just waved it off. Just laughed and walked away. Maybe even shoot something back, and then leave.

But no. Of course fucking not. That's not my life, and that isn't the type of person he is.

That damn Antonio.

It had started out painlessly enough. I was working the lunch shift at my friend's restaurant. My friend Kiku had gotten me a job as a waiter a year before, because his dad owns the restaurant, and I generally liked my job. Sure there were a few mishaps: a few broken dishes, a couple messed up orders, and, of course, dozens of asshole customers, but nothing too bad. Plus, the tips were good, so I had absolutely no problem with my job whatsoever.

The job also depends on what type of customers we get. This lead Kiku and I to develop a kind of "scale" to base the customers on:

The "Cut Throats"- the ones so engrossed in their foods, that when you come to see how they're doing, all they do is glare, and maybe give a curt "fine." The one's that you learn to leave alone until they're ready for their check.

The "Jabbers"- the people that, no matter how desperately you try, will not let you get back to work. It's as though their soul purpose in life is to talk to you, and make you miss out on good tips. They're nice when business is slow, and you have time to kill, but lord help them if we're busy. All you want to do is take their half- filled glass (because they never need a refill 'til you're carrying five plates of food to another table), and smash it over their fucking head.

The "Elders"- A personal favorite, really. There's no age requirement, but generally older customers act like this. These are the ones that like to joke and kind of tease you, but realize you're working. They wait patiently, only ask for a refill when you come to visit their table, and are just kind in general. Also, you can forget about them on a busy day, because they understand that you're working hard, and let you take care of the others until you have a spare moment. If you smile and laugh with them, they'll give awesome tips, too.

And finally, the "QCs"- otherwise known as "Quick Customers," these fine people are there to sit down, smile, order, and leave. They don't always leave a great tip, but really, no work is required with them, so it's ok.

There are a few others, like the "Normies" and "Deadbeats," but the top four are the main customers.

It started out a normal day. The lunch rush had passed an hour before, and now just a few stragglers would come by. These people were the ones who had different lunch schedules, or perhaps they just wanted lunch with a friend.

He came in right on time. His brown hair bouncing gloriously as the early afternoon sun partially blinded his green eyes, causing him to squint. I remember thinking it was odd that his father wasn't with him, since they have the same lunch shift.

His dad owns a garage up the street, as I had learned since I started working and have had them many times as customers. His dad had lived in Spain, and Antonio had been born there as well. It would've been a good life, but when the debt over there proved so horrible, his father decided to uproot his family to America. They had a garage in Spain too, that had actually done quite well, but his dad wanted to make sure Antonio had more opportunities, so he could have a better chance at landing a job.

They said at first it was hard, because Mr. Fernandez- Carriedo barely spoke English, and the move had set them a ways back financially, but he found a nice German man to help him communicate with the customers. His grand kids, Ludwig (my brother's fucking boyfriend) and Gilbert (one of Antonio's childhood friends, I'm pissed off to say) help around the shop too: fixing tires, or changing oil.

He came in with the same grease stained black shirt on, with ripped jeans, and worn out sneakers. He looked up at me, gave a faint welcoming smile, and then proceeded to sit at the table in the corner next to the window. I didn't even have to look up to know he'd sit there, just like I knew there was really no point in bringing him a menu anymore. His meals had long since been established as part of the routine he was in. It all just depended on the weather, really. That's the only thing that changed it. If it's a sunny day, he'll order the Chicken Teriyaki lunch special, and if it's raining he'll get the Shrimp and Vegetable Tempura lunch special. I grab a laminated menu from a shelf in the waiter's station, careful not to knock over any soy sauce containers, and beeline to his table.

I glance out the window to see the stale blue afternoon sky without a cloud in sight, so I know his order will be…

"Hi! Can I please have the Chicken Teriyaki with a Sprite?" He asks before I can even give him the fucking menu. I just give a small nod and turn back around. Well, the Sprite was new. He usually gets a glass of water, or a Coca- Cola.

Shrugging, I place the menu back in its holder, and go to the touch screen to punch in his order. The screen has been worn out from years of abuse, and sometimes I'll even hurt my fingers sliding them across its scratchy surface. But, I know where everything is on the screen, so it only takes a few moments for my fingers to punch out the order on the old, beat- up machine. As soon as I hear the resounding "beep" in the kitchen to let them know they received an order, I head into the kitchen myself to get the bastard his miso soup that comes with the meal.

Ten minutes and an empty bowl of soup later, I bring out his lunch. The lunch specials there always come in this cool, four- compartment bento box. It has your main entrée, a salad, some rice, and six pieces of California roll sushi. It also looks pretty fucking appetizing when you forget to eat breakfast and your stomach is clawing at your skin. I place it in front of him, the steam from the chicken and rice soon engulfing my face and making me hungrier than I already was, and give a short "enjoy" before taking his drink to be refilled.

By the time I come back, he'd polished off the rice and was practically done with the salad compartment on the bento box. Next was probably going to be the Cali roll. This is another thing I've noticed about him (I swear I don't creep on him, he's just here ALL THE TIME), he always leaves his main dish for last, no matter how good it looks.

I set down his glass and begin to walk away when he calls out to me, "Ah, I think I'll just take the check now. We have a lot of people today, and I need to make this fast," he grins sheepishly and I nod in confirmation. I go back to the counter to print out his check, place it inside a leather case, and take it to his table. I was about to walk away again, but he held up his hand and threw a few dollar bills inside the case before extended it back out to me.

This was where I made the fatal flaw. The thing that was just a goddamn mistake, but would affect me in a way that would change the rest of my life…

I scoffed at his out reached arm and snatched the booklet back, "Wow, you really are a QT."

There. Right fucking there. You see, I meant to say "QC" for Quick Customer, because a few of the people actually knew what our little "scale" was, and they found it amusing. But the way I said "QT" made it sound like I was saying "Cutie." Suddenly, his entire face brightened and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks, though that was nothing compared to the flood that overtook mine. We just stayed that way for a while, blushing and staring at one another until I finally came back to my senses.

"I-I'm sorry… I meant to say-"

"Hahaha wow, your face is so red! And I thought you couldn't get any cuter~" he said and then WINKED at me! Good God, you don't _wink_ to _men_. "And I never knew you thought of me that way! I mean sure, I thought you were cute and all, but I didn't actually think you'd reciprocate my feelings!" Then the idiot started blabbering a mile a minute about anything that popped into his head. I honestly don't think he's ever spoken to me this much, because he's always just been a QC except for a few times when he was with his dad. His dad had been the one to tell about their little "family history" and Antonio had just smiled throughout the whole thing. Dear lord, was he still talking?

"-and my aunt Anita kept yelling in Spanish, but it was so fast I-" I cleared my throat, and that seemed to knock him out of his little daze. "Uhm… I didn't mean what I said back there, I was just going to say "QC" for quick customer…"

He laughed again and smiled at me, "Oh, well, guess it's too late to take back what I said now!" he stood from the table and stared into my eyes for a few seconds before laughing and heading towards the door. He began to push it open, the strong afternoon sun blazing into the restaurant, and he turned back to look at me. "By the way, you can expect to see me a lot more now, Lovino. And I'm going to try to figure out anything I can about you to make you mine." With that, he slipped into the hot summer day, crossing the gray and chipped asphalt parking lot to get back to his garage.

I stood there, motionless, and tried to process what had just happened. I don't know how it got to be this way, but there were two things I was sure of: One, I have a potential creeper, and two, which may be worse…

I'm almost positive I have a new "jabber" to deal with.

**Author's Note~**

**Well hello there, my darling babies! Yes, I should be updating "Not Mine" and yes, I should be getting everything ready for school. But when do the plot bunnies come, other than when you have other things going on? :D but this one shouldn't be that bad to wait for (I so dearly hope) because I've already got most of this planned out.**

… **No, seriously, I have this planned out. Aren't you proud? I'M GROWING UP! :D any who! Thanks for the support! And I do not own Hetalia, sprite, or the new restaurant I just started working at and may or may not be basing some this stuff from it eue**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Time for School

I awoke to the grating shrill of my alarm clock at exactly 6:30 A.M, on Tuesday morning. Its neon green numbers were casting an eerie glow around my small dim room, making it seem even earlier than it already was. The sun's rays had yet to dawn across our little stretch of earth, and only a faint bluish tint could be seen through my white diaphanous curtains.

It had been a little over two weeks since the Spaniard fiasco at the restaurant, and true to the bastard's word, he had come by every single day. Even the days I wasn't working, he still asked about me, getting information from my co- workers and sometimes manager. He'd ask the most random things: from 'what's your favorite class in school?' to 'which shoe do you put on first? Left or right?' It was driving me insane!

I sighed and realized there was no point dwelling on it so early in the morning. I sat up from my bed, lifting my arms towards the ceiling and was pleased when I heard a muffled 'pop' being elicited from my shoulders. Then instantly regretted letting the bed sheet fall to my waist, the cold air rushing onto my bare torso. I brought my hands back down and re- wrapped the thin cloth around my chest before hobbling out of bed, sheet and all. My legs got tangled once or twice in the journey from my mattress to the wall, but eventually I was able to find my way to its burgundy surface and lean on it for support. A few seconds of tired groping later, my hand connected with the off- white switch, and flicked it on.

I was immediately blinded by the harsh light invading my pupils that were still dilated from the night before. I rubbed the palm of my hands into my eyes, hoping to dissipate some of the pain, and then took in a huge breath of air through my nose. Once I thought I was awake enough to make it to the bathroom, I pushed off the wall, and headed across the room.

My room isn't that hard to maneuver around, it has a simple layout, and as long as I had cleaned it of the dirty clothes that normally litter the floor, it had just enough space for one person to live comfortably. It has a metal bedframe, on top of which a full sized bed sits with a dark green comforter and matching pillows. There's a white nightstand next to the bed, and on the opposite side there's a matching desk with a TV on top. There's a mahogany ceiling fan and a total of three lamps: one in the corner, one on the desk, and one on the nightstand. The bathroom is located on the opposite wall of the bed to the far right, and the hallway door is on the left wall adjacent to the bed. Unfortunately (well, for sleep deprived bodies and lazy fuckers like me), the light switch to turn everything on is next to the door, and I have to get up every morning and saunter my way over to get any light in the room.

I enter the bathroom and close both doors before turning on the light. My brother and I share a connected bathroom, and sometimes he turns on the light when I'm still sleeping with my door open, and then I have to deal with two things: the light that just punched my sleep away, and a brother hugging the life out of me while he apologized. I turn on the shower and wait a few seconds for it to kick into heated water instead of freezing death gurgling out of a faucet.

I take a shower for about fifteen minutes or so, shake my head in a towel, and get dressed in some loose jeans and a white shirt with a gray and black hoodie

Today was the first day going back to high school, and as a senior it feels nice to say that I have completely given up on trying to impress people with my clothes. Honestly, I have nice clothes; shit, I have name brand designers in my closet for Christ's sake, but I'm just going to be sitting with a bunch of idiots for 7 hours under fluorescent lighting anyway, so there is truly no point.

By the time I get downstairs it's nearing seven and I have to leave in ten minutes. That's enough time for some toast and already brewed coffee. My grandpa goes to work before we get up for school, and although he can't always be the most attentive guardian, he at least makes sure we get coffee for breakfast, and that's all I can truly ask for.

Feli shuffles into the kitchen, his hair dripping wet and wearing khaki shorts and a green shirt with some band on it that- wait…

"Idiota, that's my shirt," I mutter before taking another sip of coffee. He smiles sheepishly and puts waffles into the toaster, "Sorry fratello, I guess it got thrown in with my wash by mistake." He shrugs and I move over so he can pour himself some milk, "It doesn't really matter since you steal my clothes all the time anyway, and I like this band too." I sigh and drop the subject. It's early and we're both not really morning persons, so breakfast is normally a quiet affair.

We pull out of the driveway at exactly 7:10 and before I can turn on the radio, my brother has to ruin my calm disposition.

"So, you know that guy from work? Antonio?"

I mentally sigh and I can feel a headache starting, "Yeah, what about him?" He smiles knowingly out of the corner of my eye and I can tell this is a subject he's going to have fun with.

Despite what people think, Feliciano is actually quite the little gossiper. He hangs around people like Feliks, Femke, and Elizaveta, so he's always snooping for something fun to talk about. He may have an angel's face, but he has an adulterer's mind. "He's been coming by a lot to the restaurant I hear, and asking a lot about you," he all but purrs out of his mouth. I should have known he knew about that, Kiku you damn traitor.

"It doesn't even matter Feli, please drop it." I say, hoping he'll get the hint and actually leave it alone.

No such luck, "Well, you know he goes to our school right?" I roll my eyes, "Yes," I had known, but we were never in any classes together, so there was no point talking to each other. At most I had just seen him walking down the hallways, or talking to people I knew in the cafeteria.

"Did you hear he's in some of your classes?" He says, as though it's the greatest thing ever. This makes me jump a bit and make the car twitch a bit to the right, "What do you mean? I thought he was in another division of the class?" My brother laughs beside me, "Well yes, I suppose he is, but he switched his last elective from auto shop to Crafts, and also dropped his level 6 Spanish to retake level 5~" Was that a smug tone he was using with me?

"Are you fucking serious? He was the best student that teacher ever had. He talked about him like he was fucking _God._ Why the hell would he want to retake a class he probably aced with flying colors?" Seriously, was the guy an idiot? Well, yeah, on a personality scale, but I know for a fact that he isn't one in the intellectual department.

We may be in the same grade, but because of different cases between IB, AP, Honors, and C level classes, the entire grade gets cut up, and the people you're with in freshmen year are sticking with you 'til graduation. Antonio was in the IB department. The kid basically just went off the scale as far as academics go, and he was only around the elite. I was in the AP and Honors scale. Sometimes we got a few kids in our AP classes, but it never exceeds one or two of them.

We pulled into the already packed parking lot at school, and started collecting our things from the back. "I don't know, he said some things were more important," Feliciano said, throwing me another knowing smile as we entered into the closest hallway entrance, "and he knew you were taking those classes." And with that he bounced into our homeroom leaving me confused in the hallway.

**A/N: Hello~ what'd I tell ya? I got this thing PLANNED! I know there isn't a lot of (or any I should say) Spamano action in this chapter, and for that I am truly sorry. They aren't just your favorite pairing you guys, they're mine too T^T and I get sad when I can't have them kissing and cuddly (well, I could, but I'M TRYING TO IMPROVE ON MY WRITING SKILLS~~~~~~ So no immediate action… but next chapter, we will be seeing Toni and Lovi together and Antonio's going to be a bit stalkerish in this story, because I LOVE stalker!Antonio, but it shouldn't be overbearing. So until next time loves~ P.S. I think I'll be uploading a new chapter every Sunday cuz Sunday is nice and I sit on my porch and drink coffee and write and eue yes~**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Yep, I'm late. Very very very late. And I probably won't update until next year (in January, don't worry), but a lot has happened recently: 1) school started. 2) in a relationship. 3) I GOT INTO MY DREAM SCHOOL FUCK YES. 4) I'm lazy~ **

**Enjoy this chapter~ happy holidays, and if you were affected by Hurricane Sandy, or the recent shootings, please know my thoughts and wishes are with you.**

**Chapter 3**

Homeroom and first period had gone by painlessly enough. I knew a few kids in my classes, not good friends, but people I could tolerate working with if the time came for partner work, and am now on my way to second period.

I internally groaned as a feeling of nausea hit my stomach. It's not that I didn't like Spanish (this'll be my fifth year in learning it for fuck's sake), it's because I knew, thanks to my brother, that the Spanish nuisance would be there. I gave a small sigh as I rounded the corner and picked my head up a bit to look at the door. My steps faltered for a second as I saw him, standing there, right in the middle of the fucking doorway like it was his God- given right to do so. And he looked so… ugh. That's truly the only way to describe him. He just seems like the type of person I hate, and he's only been confirming it ever since the beginning of his little "stalker mode."

These are the people who need to give no effort whatsoever. True, I don't have to do much myself in order to look presentable to society, but people like him need only to role out of bed and all of a sudden it's as though heaven's light shines upon them. Pisses me off to an extreme no scale can measure.

I should have known, really. The bastard was standing by the door, blue hoody zipped halfway up a white shirt with some design on it, light blue jeans that were a bit loose and held by a dark leather belt, and black converses that had been slightly ripped and dirtied from years of use. It wasn't incredibly shocking that as soon as his forest green eyes landed on me, they shined to resemble emeralds as a smile took hold of his face.

"Lovi! Good morning," he said as he walked up to me just as I was about to enter the classroom. I grunted in response and quickly turned into the second row, and bee-lined it to the third seat. As I shrugged off my bag onto the floor, I noticed Antonio getting situated in the seat next to me.

Yes, the bastard sits next to me. At orientation last week, the teacher thought it'd be nice if "the two best Spanish speakers sat next to each other to encourage native lingual conversations!" And because that bastard didn't show up, I didn't know he'd be in the class. Plus, the teacher seemed dead- set on making the two of us sit together.

… Bitch probably doesn't even know I'm Italian and not Spanish.

Anyway, he's been bugging the hell out of me recently at work, so I'm a bit ticked off at him (this time for a specific reason). He keeps asking me questions till I snap and just answer, usually eliciting a smirk and slight chuckle on his part. I hate how he knows how to get me to answer. He just knows all the right buttons to push to get me irritated, and for some reason, that amuses him. Arrogant bastard.

"So, how are you doing today? I hope you were able to see the sunrise this morning! It was so beautiful, the way the clouds were reflecting the light, it was the same color as the little specks of gold in your eyes!" He flashed me a smile, in what I assume was a flirtatious gesture, but I just raised one of my eyebrows and snorted. "Oh, really? Sorry I didn't notice, guess I was too busy actually _keeping my eyes on the fucking road_. You know, so I wouldn't _kill anyone," _I grabbed my notebook from my bag and opened it up on my desk, "If you get into a car wreck with someone or something, don't come crying to me with a stupid little 'But I was picturing you when it happened~' because I'll tell you right now, I'm not going to pity your ass." I propped my feet into the basket below the desk of the kid in front of me, and put my chin in my hand, waiting for the final bell to ring and for class to start. Antonio chuckled a bit, but seemed to get the message, because I saw him start to get out his own things out. We stayed in silence until the teacher walked in, and started writing an introduction and today's lesson on the board.

When the final bell rang, I don't think I could've gotten out of my last period class fast enough. Picking up my worn- out messenger bag from the scraped linoleum floors, I gave it a quick toss over my shoulder as I sidestepped through the wall of people already mashed together trying to fit through the single- person door. When I finally broke free, I started a fast walk down the hallway, and tried to avoid the kids coming out of their rooms. Probability and Statistics was at the very back of the school, and I was trying to avoid getting stopped by those kids who I hadn't seen all summer. The ones that feel the need to have a ten- minute, one- sided conversation with me as they prattle on about their vacation, elaborating on how they visited Europe/ met their true love/ saw that band they know I love.

It wasn't because I didn't like the class, on the contrary, I actually enjoyed that class the most out of the schedule, but I wanted to just get to my car and go home before he showed up. I had a feeling, despite there being over a thousand students at this school, he'd be able to find me within the chaotic halls and force me into conversing with him on how my day was. Or worse… how his day was.

But as I realized walking out the student parking lot doors, fate had other plans. Standing by my car was Feliciano, Antonio, and that German guy my brother has been hanging out with recently. They were all conversing and talking about their classes, their friends in them, and the teachers they had. It was the same mundane conversations that a lot of the students were having, I noticed as I looked across the pavement. Kids everywhere were talking, laughing, or groaning as they talked about their classes and the expected year to come.

I willed my eyes to look forward, choosing to ignore my fellow classmates instead of looking for people I know. I subconsciously started to drag my feet as I neared the vehicle, not wanting to break the blissful silence of not having to listen to anyone in particular and to be alone in my thoughts. As soon as Feliciano saw me, however, he smiled and waved with enthusiasm, yelling 'Hello fratello!' as loud as his throat would allow. Ludwig (the bastard who's been invading all of my brother's sentences recently) gave a stolid nod, and Antonio just gave me a blithe smile with those same damn eyes that he always seems to have glued to me. I never see them on anyone else, or rather, I never see the same expression he gives me on someone else. It confuses me, really. And makes me a bit uncomfortable.

I close the distance and reach into my pant's pocket for my keys, "Yeah, ciao, ready?" I ask stuffing the keys into the car door and giving it a twist. Feliciano doesn't seem content with my answer if the "tsk" I elicited from him was any indication. He closed the car door that I was half- way through opening, and gave me a faint glare. "You don't really want to go home already, do you? It's the first day! And you should be hanging out with some friends…"

I turned and narrowed my eyes at him, "No, I don't. I'm hungry and want to go home to get something to eat." I try opening the car again, but I hear Feliciano clap and give a little laugh. "Perfect! Why don't you and Toni go get something? Ludwig is borrowing his car anyway, so he needs a lift!" He smiles and gives a meaningful glance towards Antonio and I feel just how "coincidental" this whole thing is.

"No way, he can just get an _actual friend_ of his to take him. What about that Perv or Prussian Bastard that you hang out with?" I turn my attention towards Antonio, and watch him smile sheepishly and scratch the back of his head. "I would, but they're both busy today and I don't want to bother them. Besides, we could go and get food anywhere you like! I'll even pay." He raised one of his eyebrows copying a car salesman, and gave me a little smirk. I hated to admit it, and I didn't know if it was because I just didn't want him walking home in the cold or that I just wanted free food, but I felt like I couldn't say no to him.

I gave and indignant sigh and nodded, "Yeah, fine, let's go. But we're going to a place I like, and I don't give a fuck about your opinions." I finally wrench open the car door and slide in, unlocking it all around. He puts a little skip in his step as he circles the car to the other side, throwing his backpack in the back, and putting on his seatbelt. I look up to see Feliciano waving and turning to Ludwig, who had already started walking to his car, shaking his head at something, which earned a light slap on the arm and giggle from Feliciano. I roll my eyes and turn towards Antonio, who's staring at me expectantly.

"What?" I felt like I was being scrutinized under his stare, but he just shook his head and laughed a bit before turning towards me again. "So," he said "any rules I should be aware of in your car?"

I started the ignition and pulled out my iPod, "Yes, one: there is never to be any form of food in here, and two:" I pressed play as Jovanotti started blasting through the speakers, "No touching the stereo."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We've been driving for about five minutes, listening to the steady beat of the Italian music that had been blaring from the speakers, before finally realizing we needed to pick a place to eat. Antonio suggested we go to a legitimate restaurant, saying we should just hang out for a few hours and then treat it like dinner. I refused immediately, because: one, that would defeat the whole 'I want to get home and be alone' aspect; and two, that sounded so much like an offer for a date I was tempted to pull over and smack him for being so stupid.

We decided on a deli not too far from the school. I had been there once with Nonno when I was younger, and instantly made it my go- to place. The place had authentic meats and cheeses that you wouldn't expect to find in such a small town. We pulled into the almost deserted parking lot and walked into the store, being immediately assaulted with the smells of fresh baked bread and sliced meats.

We walked up to the counter just as a short, red- faced man came out of the back. "Ah, Lovino! Come stai?" He placed a towel that had been draped around his right shoulder on the counter and gave us a cheeky grin. This guy was the greatest. A true Italian. Graying handlebar mustache, plump belly, red faced, and always willing to feed you more, he was the type of person who instantly won my respect. He was also someone who I could always talk to if I was missing Italy. He would retell stories of growing up with a father who owned a cheese stand in one of the bustling street markets in Napoli, meeting all the people, and learning all he needed to know about life.

I gave him a small salutary smile and nod, "Bene, grazie. Sorry," I jerked my head over to Antonio, "this guy doesn't speak Italian, so we'll have to keep our amazing lingual skills to a minimum."

He heaved a belly laugh and grabbed Antonio's hand, "Ah, it's not a problem! Using English is just as fine! How are you this fine day, my boy?" Antonio laughed right back and shook his hand just as enthusiastically, "Great! I've never eaten here before, and I'm starving! What've ya got?"

Damn, he's better than I give him credit for. Quickest way to win an Italian cook's affection: Say you want food.

Signore Orsini got that stupid twinkle in his eye whenever he knew he was about to impress someone. He started running through all the items on the menu and how each and every one of their components was of the greatest quality. Antonio just stared and nodded every once in a while, but I could tell he was having a difficult time. What the hell, I'm hungry, so I guess I'll help the bastard out.

"Signore, we'll just have two Muffuletta Panini and two drinks." Antonio smiled and nodded, accepting my interruption with confidence. Orsini nodded and rung us up (the bastard actually followed through with his promise and paid) before heading to the back, tossing two paper cups before he walked through the door. We both got our drinks from the soda fountain to the side of the counter and sat by a window overlooking the parking lot.

"Come here often?" Antonio asked, breaking the silence that had been so blessedly lacing the air. "Yes," I answered curtly, not wanting to make this a 'get to know you' outing.

That didn't seem to be on Antonio's agenda however, as he plowed through the next few minutes with pointless questions. He asked about how I knew about this place, and how long I've been going here. Of course, I'd known Signore for years, so it was only natural I would continue coming. Sometimes I even got free sandwiches out of it. He looked like he was about to ask something else, but go interrupted by our food's arrival.

"Here ya go boys, and you're welcome," he said giving a slight smirk to Antonio and sinking back into the kitchen. Antonio looked confused for a second and went for a bite of his sandwich. I mentally counted down from three as I watched his face morph into pure shock.

"Lovi! Ha- have you EATEN THIS?" He asked, wildly gesturing to his sandwich with his left hand. "Yes, you bastard, that's why I ordered it." I took a bite out of mine, and even though I have had it plenty of times before, I still had to give Orsini props for making the greatest food in the area.

"It's so good!" He exclaimed through a mouthful of bread.

"Fantastic. Close your fucking mouth. That looks gross."

"But, it's _so _good!"

"Then quit talking and eat it." This is getting ridiculous. Why can't he just eat the sandwich and be quiet? He took another bite and rolled his eyes, sighing contentedly.

"I need to tell the world about this."

"I'm sure you'll do just that."

"I'm serious, tomorrow I'm going to the news station and broadcasting this place across the network."

"Just eat your damn sandwich so I can go home." As much as I hated to admit it, this was actually kind of fun. Just joking around like this. Which is why it has to stop. I don't want to like this guy. It'll only give him the satisfaction of winning over 'grouchy, blunt, foul- mouthed Lovino.'

There is no way I'm going to give him the pleasure of a title.

He looked a bit dampened by my attitude; "Oh come on, and I thought this was going pretty well…" he took another bite of his sandwich and gave another loud- ass sigh.

"And stop that! Jesus, it sounds so fucking provocative…" Seriously, he was practically moaning by now, and a few more customers had come inside the past few minutes. They were going to get the wrong impression and- oh my God, what is that look…?

The bastard was smirking when he went in for another bite, "Oh my GOD~ _SO _GOOD~!" A couple on the other side of the room stopped eating to stare at us, and a party of five that was standing by the counter gave us glance over. I could practically feel my face melt into my neck as I put up my hand to cover my eyes. "Stop it!" I whisper- yelled. He cracked a full fledged grin and took another bite, "Mm mmm MM~ TASTES LIKE LOVE FEELS." He ended that declaration with an obvious wink directed toward me.

By now, the group was snickering and the couple had resumed eating their Panini and soup. I tried to keep a straight face, but I felt the annoying tug of my lips being lifted upwards. "See! I made you smile, now you can't say you want to leave until I finish my sandwich." He straightened his back and gave a triumphant smile, putting his sandwich down and starting to eat his chips.

"Never agreed to that. And besides, I have a crap ton of homework, and I have work tonight. I can't laze around all day like an ass like you." You would think someone would get sick of all the insults, but Antonio just shrugged it off and started to pick up the conversation again. "I get it. Well, I'm still going to try and impress you, even if I have a time restraint."

I raised an eyebrow, "Trying to impress me? How is sounding like you're fucking your sandwich impressive?" He gave a short laugh and looked me in the eye, "Well, it got you to smile." Damn it. Fucking making me blush… "And I'm still serious about making you fall for me. Heck, I'll always be serious. But this could go a lot smoother if you'd just accept my offer and go out on a legitimate date with me."

"Not gonna happen."

"I'll pay you."

"That's just pathetic."

"I'm willing to stoop to that level."

"Why?" He suddenly looked me dead in the eye, waited a few seconds, and took a small gulp of air before answering.

"Because I've wanted to date you since I basically first saw you, and when I heard you say 'cutie' to me, I swore my heart skipped four beats. I honestly wish I could tell you what that did to me. I couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day, and people looked at me like I was insane. I would start laughing in the middle of changing an oil filter, almost slipped twice in the garage because of the skip in my step, and I just kept thinking 'this is what I feel like when we have a two minute conversation, if I get into a relationship with him…' and my mind would just go wild with possibilities.

"Do you honestly think I could always eat Japanese food everyday for lunch? Don't get me wrong, it's delicious and that restaurant is great. But I mean, come on. Every. Day? No. It wasn't the food, or the price, or the convenience… it was you." He finished his little soliloquy and gave a small smile and soft laugh that sounded more like a tired sigh, "And now you're probably sitting there, thinking I'm a stalker, and getting freaked out."

I cleared my throat and shook my head, "No, no it's just… damn. We barely even spoke." His cheeks gained a bit of a pink tinge to them before he responded, "Yeah, freaked me out a bit too."

My hand pushed some of my bangs out of my face as I tried to get my thoughts together. All in all, I felt kind of bad. Here I was, only going through this because of the promise of free food, and here he was, sitting here because he's been thinking about it for months.

"But I mean really," I said, "You couldn't have wanted to go out that badly." He took my hand in his and brought it up to his neck, placing my pointer and middle finger near his carotid vein.

"Feel that?" he sad, applying more pressure. I felt his skin, like it had just been near a flame and still retaining heat, and his heart beat, wild and fluttering like a tiny hummingbird in his neck "it's been beating like that since I got in your car." He set my wrist back down and took a gulp of his water, which I just noticed was almost gone

"O- oh…" I was at a loss. Normally I'd come back with some witty response, but that's a bit hard when someone is looking at you so earnestly.

"So will you?" He asked suddenly. I looked up at him through my bangs and scrunched my eyebrows together. "Will I what?"

"Will you, Lovino Vargas, give me one chance and go out with me?"


End file.
